Gintaro ir Sidabro
by headlesshessian
Summary: Lithuania and the Baltics have gained their independence. Ivan remembers a few things and gives Toris one last gift. one-sided RussLiet, requited RussLiet if you squint and turn your head to one side. Human names   over  used.


Disclaimer: I own the plot, nothing else.

The room was quiet; the soft rustling of paper and slight exhales the only sounds to be heard. Purple eyes watched sadly as the three battered countries signed the document, grins threatening to break their porcelain masks of neutrality. _This is the end of us,_ Ivan thought. _Why are you leaving me? I don't understand..._

Toris had been first to truly rebel, to declare independence: Ivan still remembered grabbing Lithuania's arm, being completely caught off guard by the sharp elbow to the gut and the booted foot slamming down on his instep.

"_Ne!_ I refuse to be treated this way any longer! I will speak my language, practice my customs, worship whatever I want to worship! I declare myself independent from you!"

He didn't know at the time that Toris had been meeting with his underground. All Ivan knew was that the Vilinaus Universiteto Ansamblis had practiced very late into the night, and ended with Toris coming home with a dreamy smile on his face. He supposed that should have been the first clue: that smile was formerly reserved for when Belarus acknowledged him without violence.

The second was Toris' practice of not going to sleep when he went to bed, the patterns of footsteps and heavy breathing continuing without interruption until the early hours of the morning. Well, at least Ivan knew what happened to that broom. Apparently, staff-fighting practice happened. It happened with Raivis and Eduard soon after that, more footsteps and different patterns in separate rooms.

It was still the stuff of confused, blurry dreams: Toris' eyes flashing emerald as he grabbed a knife; Raivis standing up straight without trembling, balling his hands into fists; Eduard holding up an eerily sharp knife that he obviously knew how to wield. The Baltics, _his_ Baltics, all looking at him with defiance and _oh no please tell me that isn't _hatred in their eyes.

When did their eyes harden? Or had they been as unsympathetic all along? He only remembered Toris looking like that when he took his precious amber rosary: It had been a gift from one of his earlier rulers, and he would be caught rubbing the small cross or the large silver beads while cleaning. It was his sole comfort, his reminder of his homeland, of himself: and Ivan confiscated it, as there was no God of Communism. Toris had struggled, trying to cling to the small necklace of amber and silver without breaking it, but he relenquished it in the end

Toris was silent that night. Raivis worriedly hovered around him, but Toris knelt, unmoving on the carpet, staring ahead. Eduard became worried after 15 minutes of Raivis' attempts to distract him, but Toris stayed on his knees, on the carpet, until the sun shone through the East windows of the room, touching his hair with gold and turning Lithuania into a saint with a halo, backlit by sun on snow. Somehow, he reminded Ivan of a caged bird, one that had struggled against it's captors, but had finally given in to the misery of captivity. From that point on, Ivan kept the rosary in a small box in his nightstand, often taking it out and wondering why Toris valued it so much.

He never quite had the heart to destroy the small necklace, with its amber beads interspersed with silver every seven pieces.

He was jerked back into reality by Eduard's cautious touch to his left shoulder.

"Da?"

"We need you to sign now, Russia." Not Mr. Russia anymore, simply Russia. _I suppose they're my equals now. But they should be one with me still! I wouldn't make them call me that if they just stayed!_

With shaking fingers, _Ivan Braginski_ was written on the dotted line.

"You have your freedom now."

Raivis was the first to leave, nearly running out of the room in his haste. Eduard followed at a more sedate pace, smiling almost giddily, a sight to see on his normally composed face. Toris was slower, absentmindedly making sure none of the fountain pens were leaking, before collecting his briefcase. His smile was more of the dreamy, disbelieving sort, as if he wasn't sure if this was real or not.

He nodded curtly at Ivan, who was still clutching his pen and staring at the paper, not sure what he had just done.

It was only when Toris was several corridors away that Ivan realized he was still in possession of the amber rosary.

In two minutes, Ivan had caught up with Toris, who was whistling as he walked purposefully out the front doors.

"Litva!"

Toris flinched, slowly turning around. "Rusija. What do you want?"

"I..." Ivan wasn't sure how to phrase the next part, when faced with Toris' cold green eyes. Raivis and Eduard watched from a distance.

"Well? Get on with it, I have a flight to catch," Toris spoke coolly, a huge difference from the stuttering man he used to be.

Ivan swallowed, considering the next words he would speak.

"I have something that I believe is yours, Litva."

"It's Lietuva or Lithuania, if you please." Toris looked as if he regretted adding the "if you please" to the last part of his sentence.

"Ah... give me your hand, da?"

Warily, Toris extended his left hand, palm up. His expression remained hard and mistrustful.

Ivan knew the hand, knew the calluses, the lines, the nails, the way the fingers tapered, and the ways it moved. It was his intention to simply drop the rosary into Toris' hand, but temptation won out and Ivan bent to press a chaste kiss to the palm.

Toris flinched.

"Rusija, I-"

"Shush, Litva."

Green eyes were wide and worried. Ivan knew Toris probably thought he would injure him somehow; otherwise, why offer the non-dominant hand?

"Here. This is yours, da?" Orange beads spilled over the sides of the hand, Ivan closed Toris' fingers around the small silver cross.

"Rusija, Ivan, I..." Toris swallowed, his eyes suspiciously misty. "Ačiū."

Toris smiled, and Ivan thought it might have been the first genuine smile directed solely at him for the first time in over a century.

Toris repeated his thanks, and smiled again, brighter than the last, then turned away.

"Wait, Litva!" Toris spun around in obvious confusion.

"Will... Will you ever come back to me?"

Toris smiled, and it was gentler than the last, more restrained.

"The thing about caged birds, is that they will never return to their cages willingly after release. But they may visit you, and sing."

With those cryptic words (How did Toris _know _that? He didn't mention it to his face ever...), Toris smiled brightly again.

Ivan memorized the sensations: the breeze blowing, the laughter from children across the street, the sunlight, and watched as Toris turned away and walked again, speeding up to a jog as Raivis or Eduard or both called to him.

Ivan remembered the smile, and on September 6th, 1991, and all the September 6ths after that, he basked in its warmth.

* * *

_Rusija: "Russia," Lithuanian_

_Litva: "Lithuania," Russian_

_A__čiū: "thank you," Lithuanian_

_Gintaro ir Sidabro: "amber and silver," Lithuanian_

_As far as I know, the Vilinaus Universiteto Ansamblis, or Vilnius University Ensamble, and it's members did not have some sort of underground resistance, but I think Toris would have used going to rehersal as a cover for some sneaky revolution-planning._

Author's Babble: Um, hi! This was my first (published) fanfic, inspired by the fact that, well, today's September 6th, and on this date 1991, the Soviet Union recognized the Baltic States as independent. Being Lithuanian myself (er... half Litsky), I really wanted to write about this! I have to apologize for the all the focus being on Liet though: school starts tomorrow and I was too busy with summer reading to research about independence movements in Latvia or Estonia. And then it just sort of morphed into this whole giant snowball of one-sided RussLiet.

Thank you for reading! and if you are so inclined, please review!


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